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Her looks they were fo mild,
Free from affected pride,
She me to love beguil'd,

I wish'd her for my bride.

O had I all that wealth

HOPTOUN'S high mountains fill,
Infur'd long life and health,

And pleasures at my will;

I'd promife and fulfil,

That none but bonny she,

The lafs of PEATY'S mill

Shou'd fhare the fame with me.

YOUN

Pier of Leith.

OUNG PHILANDER woo'd me lang, But I was peevish and forbad him, I wadna tent his loving fang,

But now I wish, I wish I had him : Ilk morning when I view my glass,

Then I perceive my beauty going;
And when the wrinkles feize the face,
Then we may bid adieu to wooing.

My beauty, anes so much admir'd,
I find it fading faft, and flying;
My cheeks, which coral-like appear'd,
Grow pale, the broken blood decaying:

Ah! we may see ourselves to be,

Like fummer fruit that is unfhaken ; When ripe, they foon fall down and die, And by corruption quickly taken.

Use then your time, ye virgins fair,
Employ your day before 'tis evil;
Fifteen is a season rare,

But five and twenty is the devil.
Juft when ripe, consent unto't,

Hug nae mair your lanely pillow; Women are like other fruit,

They lose their relish when too mellow.

If opportunity be loft,

You'll find it hard to be regain'd; Which now I may tell to my cost,

Tho' but myfell nane can be blamed : If then your fortune you respect,

Take the occafion when it offers:

Nor a true lover's fuit neglect,

Left you be fcoff'd for being scoffers.

I, by his fond expreffions thought,

That in his love he'd ne'er prove changing;

But now, alas! 'tis turn'd to nought,

And, past my hope, he's gane a ranging.

Dear maidens, then, take my advice,
And let na coyness prove your ruin ;

For if ye be o'er foolish nice,

Your fuitors will give over wooing.

Then maidens auld you nam'd will be,
And in that fretfu' rank be number'd,

As lang as life; and when ye die,

With leading apes be ever cumber'd : A punishment, and hated brand,

With which nane of us are contented; Then be not wife behind the hand,

That the mistake may be prevented.

PATIE and PEGGY.

PATIE.

Y the delicious warmness of thy mouth,

I guess, my laffie, that as well as I,

truth,

You're made for love, and why fhould ye deny ?

PEGGY.

But ken ye, lad, gin we confess o'er soon, Ye think us cheap, and fyne the wooing's done : The maiden that o'er quickly tines her power, Like unripe fruit will tafte but hard and sowr.

PATIE.

But when they hing o'er lang upon the tree,
Their sweetness they may tine, and sae may ye :
Red-cheeked you completely ripe appear,
And I have thol'd and woo'd a lang ha'f year.

PEGGY.

Then dinna pu' me; gently thus I fa'

Into my PATY's arms for good and a';

But ftint your wishes to this frank embrace,
And mint nae farther till we've got the grace.

PATIE.

O charming armsfu'! hence, ye cares, away, I'll kiss my treasure a' the live-lang day;

A' night I'll dream my kiffes o'er again,
'Till that day come that ye'll be a' my ain.

CHORUS.

Sun, gallop down the weftlin skies,
Gang foon to bed, and quickly rise,
O lafh your feeds, poft time away,
And hafte about our bridal day:
And if ye're wearied, honeft light,
Sleep, gin ye like, a week that night.

Queen of the May.

JENNY.

TERN Winter has left us, the trees are in bloom,

STE

And cowflips and vi'lets the meadows perfume; While kids are disporting, and birds fill the spray, I wait for my Jocky to hail the new May.

JOCKY.

Among the young lilies, my JENNY, I've ftray'd,
Pinks, daifies, and woodbines I bring to my maid;
Here's thyme sweetly smelling, and lavender gay,
A posy to form for my Queen of the May.

JENNY.

Ah! Jocky, I fear you intend to beguile,
When feated with MOLLY last night on a stile,

You swore that you'd love her for ever and ay,
Forgetting poor JENNY, your Queen of the May.

JOCKY.

Young WILLY is handsome in shepherds' green drest,
He gave you these ribbons that hang at your breast,
Besides three sweet kiffes upon the new hay;
Was that done like JENNY, the Queen of the May?

JENNY.

This garland of rofes no longer I prize,
Since Jocky, falfe-hearted, his paffion denies :
Ye flowers fo blooming, this inftant decay,
For JENNY's no longer the Queen of the May.

JOCKY.

Believe me, dear maiden, your lover you wrong, Your name is for ever the theme of my fong; From the dews of pale eve' to the dawning of day, I fing but of JENNY, my Queen of the May.

JENNY.

Again, balmy comfort with transport I view,
My fears are all vanish'd since Jocky is true;

Then to our blyth fhepherds the news I'll convey,
That JENNY alone you've crown'd Queen of the May.

Jocky.

Come all ye young lovers, I pray you draw near,
Avoid all fufpicion, whate'er may appear;

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